The Continuing Story of Sofia and The Amulet
by Eligrl77
Summary: Sherlock and John have finally retired from detective work. However, Sofia needs them to complete one last task for her.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft arrived at 221B Baker Street just after tea time in this usual black tie attire. Time had not aged the annoyance he bought to Sherlock's life. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he walked in. Though Mycroft had considerably aged, his passion for the British government had continued. His frequent spying on his brother had done so also. He had absolutely no plans of retiring. However, his brother and his husband John wanted to. The news of their wanting to retire had astonished him. He never thought in a million years of Sherlock in such a position.

"Are you sure dear brother? I am sure Lestrade and his team would miss you both deeply. His Highness will be also very saddened by the news I'm sure," said Mycroft smugly.

"Oh no worries Mycroft I am still content in my wanting to leave my consulting days behind me. I will greatly miss the chase but I will not miss the rats of London's criminals at all," sighed Sherlock resting on the sofa in his usual dressing gown.

"What about John's opinion on this matter?"

"John you forget dear brother, was a soldier. He saw more blood and dead people than I can say I have. He has enjoyed the chase as much as I do. But he's tired, and if he is, so am I."

"Very well Sherlock. If even John couldn't convince you, then I am sure I can't either. I am glad in a way Mrs. Hudson never had to experience your leaving. She would have been heartbroken leaving you in this place. It was very nice of her to bequeath it to you in her will. I will make the arrangements for the moving and placement. Is there any particular place in the countryside you are looking for?"

"I didn't know you dwelt in real estate. Don't say anything stupid about Mrs. Hudson. She was the best landlady of all time."

"I want the best for you Sherlock, believe it or not. I want to have you somewhere where is some much needed peace and quiet. Somewhere you can still play the violin at 4 am and no one will be complaining," he grinned. Sherlock said nothing.

"Very well Sherlock. I will be back next week with a property that I deem suitable for both you and John," as he walked out with his umbrella and quietly closed the flat door. Fifteen minutes later, John arrived from the grocery store.

"I had a feeling we ran out of milk," sighed John as he carried his bags to the kitchen. He turned to Sherlock who was still sulking on the sofa.

"Let me guess, Mycroft visited you?"

"Unfortunately," Sherlock replied.

"I am sure he was still upset by the news of our retirements."

"Of course he was. He said he would at least find us a suitable place in the country."

"Ah, he's still a good egg now and then. Any emails from the kids?"

"Yes I got an email from Hamish. Enjoying all of what he is learning about criminal justice at uni. It reminds me too much of myself. Said he would come and visit us in the country."

"And any word from Violet?"

"Oh yes, Violet is enjoying her Tolstoy class. Something about her honors society and the boy who is president. She finally was able to memorize her piece for composition. I believe its Bach's Chaconne in D minor from Partita No. 2. She said she would play it for me when she came to visit."

"It'll be nice to see them when they are on holiday. Always brightened the place up when we had our share of gritty cases."

"They were like you are Watson."

"Remember when we took the two to a crime scene for the first time?"

"Oh yes and Sally fainted. Ah, that was a surprise to her. More freaks than she could stand," he laughed deeply.

"We may have to start packing up a bit around here if we are ever going to move! Sherlock how about you start collecting some of the family stuff in one pile or at least one box? I think we have the old green chest upstairs you can put them in. I can start with wrapping some of the silverwares," he smiled, knowing Sherlock was always on a different schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock waited till John went to bed to start looking at the family mementos. There were so much just lying around. Neither he nor John were the sentimental types usually. He found a very thick photo album that John had done very well in stocking. Curiosity got the best of him and he started looking through the photos.

The first ones were the early years. When Sherlock and John started living at Baker Street together. The pictures came from the different newspapers that covered their cases mainly. A few of the famous Christmas parties Sherlock ever so loathed. There were never any pictures during the three year absence. John wished to forget those painful years, and nothing remains from then except the long news clipping proclaiming Sherlock being alive again.

The second set was when Sherlock and John officially became a couple. Sherlock posing with more of John's extended family, even with Harry. The third sets were the engagement pictures taken by Molly. Nobody had a clue what they were doing. Molly was lucky to get Sherlock to smile, at least once. The fourth set was all the wedding pictures, taken by the Royal Family photographers. Mycroft made most of the arrangements and made most help of the wedding cake Mrs. Hudson proudly made. It was largely attended by a who's who of British royalty, government and society. They married not long after the marriage act included same sex couples, one of the last laws Queen Elizabeth II passed before her death. So this particular wedding was a major celebration for everyone involved. John also saved the marriage certificate, indicating he changed his last name to Holmes.

The third set was the honeymoon in Thailand. Lots of hilarity captured on camera. One included a hilarious shot of a baby elephant nose kissing Sherlock. They looked so happy and in love. He almost didn't want to stop looking at this particular set of pictures. His favorite one was of him holding John near the ocean, joyful out of their minds.

The fourth was the most crowded one. After two years of marriage, Sherlock and John much to the amazement of everyone, wanted to have children. With Mycroft's help in selecting an anonymous donor (and Sherlock providing), they were blessed with two fraternal twins: Hamish Malcolm and Violet Helen Holmes. Their jet black hair and heterochromia eyes got the attention of everyone who saw them. It was obvious from day one who their father was. Not a single detail was left unturned by John. Pictures of their first days at 221B Baker Street and a very frail Mrs. Hudson proudly holding them. She would pass not long after, leaving her surprisingly massive estate to Sherlock and John. He was always proud she got to at least see them before. Endless pictures of their graduations, Halloween costumes, drawings, sport and literature awards, Hamish's Boy Scout awards, Violet's endless writing contest awards, and Sherlock's proudest: a picture of her at seven years old in a princess costume she insisted on wearing at a crime scene. The children could deduct as good as or even better than he could, which made them at times slight outcasts. Sherlock was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he truly loved his children. The two had their father's good looks and mind. It was good to relive seeing his children young. Time always seemed to go by too quickly for them.

The fifth was news clippings of even more of their cases. The saga involving the death of Elizabeth II and Prince Charles covered it. Their involvement singlehandly got both him and John knighthood by now King William. John's blog reached web crashing heights. They were the darlings of the papers when a case would be solved by them.

The sixth was much more modest. Many pictures were taken by John of moving Hamish and Violet's things to Oxford. Sherlock didn't express it at the time, but he knew he would horribly miss them. The flat seemed so empty and quiet without them. The children both promised to keep in touch, knowing their father would deduce they might be kidnapped and try and visit. The cases in the photo album dwindled as they became more selective about which ones to choose. The technology was rapidly changing what the criminals were trying. Sherlock could still however, save the day and deduct things the police would always be too stupid to see. John had even kept the news article, slightly mentioning Sherlock and his retirement. The memories lingered on to Sherlock as he started to finally pack them away.


	3. Chapter 3

John the next morning came to find picture postcards Princess Sophia's family would send them. She grew into a young lady before his very eyes. They were always grateful for his and Sherlock's help regarding her amulet and her life.

"Princess Sofia has got to be in her mid twenties now!" John looked amazed at seeing her transformation in picture. "I'm surprised she isn't married yet, the poor girl."

"She still has that amulet John. She can still be a target. I'm not surprised her family doesn't want to take any chances of being kidnapped again."

"She said on her last postcard to us she would love to come visit us sometime. Would you mind Sherlock?"

"I never normally see a client after a case, but I may make an exception," he smiled pouring out some tea for himself.

"Sherlock were you up all night in the attic?" John asked.

"Just putting things away like you told me to do, but I did help myself to looking at some pictures. I forgot Violet dressed as a princess to go to one of the crime scenes! Was it the murdered priest case?"

"Yes it was. Everyone told us we were bloody mad. She did look cute that day," John rolled his eyes in laughter. It was nice to see Sherlock's sentimentality showing even for a little while.

"Aren't we a bit old to be all nighters Sherlock?"

"I don't believe in such dear. The night is still the best time for me to think."

"Well as long as you aren't shooting the walls again -

"I haven't done that since we bought the children home! I had to keep hiding all the guns in the house. It made the living room dull."

"Mycroft's folks will have a grand old time repainting all over that. You are still my favorite idiot of all," John laughed as he kissed Sherlock's head.

The very next week as Mycroft promised, he showed up with a few documents in his hands. Sherlock looked dully at Mycroft once more, as he hastily finished his self composed violin piece.

"You would be happy to know I found a property for you two to stay at," he smiled, which was rarer than Sherlock getting milk.

"Oh really, and where that might be located?"

"It's located in Hartsfield, East Sussex."

"That's not too terrible Sherlock. It's only an hour or so away from London. I think it's about an hour and a half from Oxford," John replied.

"The house is called Cotchford Farm. It sits on two properties. Ashdown forest and the hundred acre woods, they call it. Apparently one of the Rolling Stones lived there at one point."

"Who are they?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh… never mind then, the family who owns the property is called The Robins. They are leaving because they have a son Christopher, who has gone off to college. They feel they don't need as much of a large property as since he was an only child and own a smaller property now. However, the boy has protested about them leaving, so technically they are renting it out. They did a very large favor to me in letting you two have it. So I hope I am going to be thanked," he crossed his arms.

"Welcome Mycroft," Sherlock groaned and sipped some more tea.

"I do really appreciate you Mycroft helping us out like this," John added, much to Sherlock's dismay.

"Don't thank me. Thank the Robins when you see them. Once they knew of my great importance in the British government, they were very quick to change their minds of the matter. I will leave some pictures of the property for you to look at. You have three weeks to pack up your things, though it doesn't look like there will be much to pack between you two. Back to work lads," he smirked as he grabbed his umbrella, bided good day to both of them, and walked swiftly out the door. John took the pictures from the kitchen table and examined the property.

"Gosh Sherlock, this place is huge!" John said as he flipped through. It was highly decadent compared to the flat. Six bedrooms, three bathrooms, drawing room with a study connected to it, swimming pool, a fish pond, and 9.5 acres of land just for them.

"I can't believe we are just being given this place. Your brother is unbelievable!" John exclaimed.

"He just wants me far but not far enough where he can't keep tabs. Such an annoying older brother," Sherlock sighed.

"Well, I guess we better start packing more. If I stay here any longer, I swear I will get too complacent with wanting to not leave. So many memories in this flat," John sighed also as he carefully wrapped some paintings up from the walls.

The three weeks before the big move was a frantic one for the both of them. John made sure to have the water and electric cancelled on the move date. All kinds of people were in and out all the time to fix whatever problems the flat had. Sherlock's bullet holed smiley was sadly painted over. Sherlock was rather annoyed by the entire ruckus. Much of the house was being repainted a dull white, nothing like Sherlock would ever want to live with. It looked like a totally different flat by the time the cleaning process was over. Mycroft had said a landlord had planned to buy 221B and make it apartments again. John knew the place would never be quite the same without them.

Finally, the dreadful day of officially moving had come. Most of all the furniture had been moved to Cotchford Farm already. Both Sherlock and John were sad about leaving. They had their last free dinner at Speedy's, complete with Angelo crying. They silently held hands and for the last time, closed and locked the door of 221B. John had the honor of giving the keys to the realtor. He had to hold it within himself to not just start crying. It wasn't like him; he was a soldier for heaven's sake. Yet, so much had happened in this flat. Sherlock was waiting in Mycroft's car already.

"Didn't want to say goodbye?" John asked as he got in.

"A house is just a house John. It's what you make within it. Those I like to keep," Sherlock said as the car started to move headed south. He kept forgetting Sherlock didn't always wear his emotions, even now. John couldn't help but look back at the old house as it faded from view.


	4. Chapter 4

They passed Piccadilly and so many places where he and Sherlock had been. Lestrade had once said Sherlock knew London like the back of his hand. John sure believed him. Sherlock was about to head somewhere almost entirely knew. They both looked out the windows silently as the city faded away from view. More forest ever increased around them as the miles rolled on. John thought to himself in the car how Sherlock would handle living out in the country. Not having to be a consulting detective anymore. At least Sherlock was assured no one would ever have his kind of job again. The government would still at least have Mycroft. It was a long hour and a half drive. John could easily tell when Sherlock was in his mind palace, so he didn't bother to disturb him from his thoughts. After receiving permission to the restricted road near the house, (Mycroft's idea most likely) they were at the farm. They both got out of the car and gave the house a good look.

"Well, welcome home I guess," John kissed Sherlock and took his hand into the house. Sherlock, of course always the most observant noticed the child statue in the front.

"That child looks terribly sad. It looks like his mother packed his lunch wrong." Sherlock deducted aloud.

"Sherlock that is supposed to be Christopher as a boy at least that is what the brochure says."

"It kinds of looks like me at that age actually," he replied as he toured through the house with John.

"Look how big that fridge is Sherlock! You could have fit 80 heads in it back in 221B!" John had a laugh.

"What a shame. No more heads for me anymore. I am not sure what the garbage man is going to think with all of those dead people's heads in the trash bin," Sherlock sighed. Mycroft sure didn't miss a detail with bringing most of everything over. Even the food in the fridge was taken care of for the week. What Sherlock couldn't get over was the silence. That was disturbing. He had lived in the city so long. He had almost forgotten what it wasn't like to not be. He closed his eyes and he could only hear the hum of the electrics and the birds chirping away.

His favorite chair was in the living room already, including his violin placed delicately nearby. Mycroft had a keen memory of where things were in the flat. This new reality would take some getting used to. He heard John's ringtone go off, some annoying song that came with his phone. He could tell it was Violet based on the inflection in John's voice.

"It looks like school is on holiday. Hamish and Violet are planning to visit us in two days. Violet's car is having some issues, so Hamish will be driving her here."

"Lovely, how I remember how impressive his driving skills were the last time we were with him," Sherlock grinned.

"Well he is better driver than that stupid cabby in that one case," John shot back.

"Yes. That is very true," Sherlock sat down in his chair.

"I should put the kettle on. It has been a long day," John sighed as he went into the kitchen. Sherlock pulled out his well loved violin in the mean time. A Giuseppe Tartini song came to mind, the mournful violin concerto in a major, D.96. Playing the largo andante from memory, he pulled the piece off as brilliantly as the person who wrote it. He was losing himself in thought within the music as he always did. The piece was in a way saying goodbye to his old life through song.

The first night was the most strangest. Sherlock looked out into a black window of nothingness. No bustling cars, no one to be spying on at Speedy's, no crime, just his John reading a book before bed.

"Coming to bed Sherlock?" John asked.

"Yes love. I am just thinking how I will spend my days. You my liking of bees don't you John?"

"Yes, I know you threaten to be a beekeeper," John put down his book.

"How would you feel if I actually had my own little bees? I can imagine my next work: 'Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen!' how do you reckon it John?"

"As long as those bloody things aren't near me or my garden, you can go out bee yourself. You know me and Hamish are deafly allergic to the things. We do now have nine acres of land after all, I am sure you can find a well suited place not near anyone."

"Oh John, you are the best. How I dearly love you," Sherlock ran over and kissed him.

"And you too, you idiot," John teased as he patted Sherlock's leg getting into bed. While cuddling with John, he imagined himself and his happy bees. It wasn't crime, but maybe just as interesting as one.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day Sherlock made himself useful. He was able to join an interesting group called the Sussex Beekeepers Association. The moment they found out he was Sherlock Holmes, they got very excited. The President of the local chapter named Arthur, once he got wind of their newest member, even stopped by to help him get beekeeping essentials. John had to chuckle to himself at the club's excitement of his husband. Sherlock was not fond of groups, but these were beekeepers, not Lestrade's police force. Plus, he was pleasantly surprised that there were intelligent people interested in beekeeping. While Sherlock was away, he left his phone on the table. It started vibrating like mad. It was a personal number, and only his immediate family ever called it. John, quite confused by this answered it. Number blocked.

"Hello?" John asked.

There was a long pause.

"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? This is Sofia calling," said a sad and sweet voice.

"Princess Sophia? I haven't talked to you in ages! Actually, this is John here, not Sherlock. He is currently out."

"Oh dear, I can't talk to you. I need to talk to him. When will be getting back?" she said in a hushed tone.

"He is currently having some sort of rendezvous with the bee keepers club. How did you get this number?"

"Mycroft? Sherlock's brother?"

"Something must be wrong Sofia calling if you even talked to Mycroft. He couldn't help you?"

"No. I need Sherlock. I have fled my kingdom and have traveled far. I will visit soon and explain all of this myself. Just tell him I am in grave danger and need his help deeply," and as soon as she said those words, the call was disconnected in an instant. John hadn't seen Sofia since she was a child. Why on earth would she be calling on Sherlock when Mycroft must have told her he had retired? This puzzled him greatly.

As soon as Sherlock got back, John told him about the call and everything that happened. Sherlock sat at his chair, going into mind palace mode.

"The last case we had with her dealt with her amulet. I have a feeling that this will be the case once again John. Someone is after her again. She is older now. Her parents are too old to protect her. We will just have to face with whatever she brings us when she gets here."

"But bloody hell Sherlock, I thought we were done all of this when we moved here!" John put his face in his hands. "I thought you were done being a consulting detective. It's what you told me at least," John sighed.

"We saved her life John. She feels that we can still help her. Obviously, there is no one else she trusts more to that than us. Whatever that is, we'll be here."

John sighed and stared into the setting sun. "What do we tell Hamish and Violet when they come to visit tomorrow?"

"Simple. We tell them nothing. This is our case."

"You've told them about your other cases, what is so different about this one?"

"They don't know about the other one either," Sherlock replied.

"They must be wondering why then a princess sends you a Christmas post card every year!"

"Simple, she changes her name and address every year. No one has yet to figure out my correspondence with her besides you and Mycroft's cronies."

"Oh you idiot Sherlock," John rolled his eyes. "Your consulting never seems to be done."


	6. Chapter 6

The children's visit was nice for John. He got to hear all about terrible professors, bad grades, amazing parties, the endless amounts of paper each of them had to do, and horrid flatmates. Sherlock would never be told about such things. To him, those things were dull and his children understood that. Violet played Partita No. 2 in D Minor on her father's violin as she promised to do. That got his attention and anything to do with Sherlock's possessions wasn't a dull matter. Everyone smiled as she played, but Sherlock unbeknownst to the others was the most beaming whenever she played. It was like a younger version of himself playing. She had all of her father's passion in playing. Her jet black curls fell everywhere as she played. The sun hit her and she glistened like a diamond in the room. No one seemed to take notice of this except Sherlock. When the piece was over, Hamish went to help John out in the kitchen for dinner. Sherlock took his daughter's hands into his.  
"I am so proud of you Violet," he held her hands in his.

"I wish I could talk to you more. I know you only like email and text, but it can get old."

"I know I am not that great of being a father."

"No you are not Daddy. You were always different from everyone. I would never say however you are terrible."

"I am so glad Violet you aren't becoming a consulting detective like your brother is," he added.

"Why, you jealous?" she laughed.

"No because it is dangerous work. I am already stressed having one child in the business. Two would just throw me off a roof."

"Didn't you technically already do that dad?"

"Oh yes. That was a long time ago before you were born luckily. I wouldn't have done that had you both been around. Remember I saved Daddy's life doing that unfortunate stunt," he paused for some time before changing the subject.

"You know what some time ago when I was boxing all the things up?" he pulled out a photo. It was of Violet in her princess Cinderella outfit, at a crime scene.

"Oh my goodness Dad I remember this! Remember how everyone was so upset with you! But I was allowed to be a princess," she laughed and laughed at the memory. "You told everyone to address me as 'Princess Holmes' and nothing less."

"Well if you ever feel like being Princess Holmes again, I am sure Mycroft kept your tiara and dress," he laughed along with her.

"Dinner is ready!" John announced and Hamish helped him get the homemade beef stew in everyone bowl.

"Thanks for helping Hamish. I almost forgot half of the recipe," John sat down at the dining room chair.

"This is such a lovely dining room. It's so very Victorian. It somehow suits you two," she smiles as she started on her soup. There was some silence before Hamish spoke.

"So dad, aren't you going to ask me about my studies? Anything about what I am doing?" he asked.

"No, because you know what I am going to say Hamish," Sherlock stared at him.

"You are so mad at me since I changed my major to criminal justice. Mycroft does it; you did it, so why are you giving me a hard time!"

"That's because he is not my son," Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"I'm never going to make you proud like Violet is, aren't I?"

"Hamish, knock it off!" John warned him.

"I'm doing really great in my major dad," as he was addressing John more than Sherlock. "I get all straight As, I'm in the honors society for my major like Violet is with hers. So what is it I'm not doing right—?"

"Your phone, Hamish" Sherlock responded as he was trying to fill himself with the soup.

"What about my phone dad?"

"I can tell you have been drinking a lot son. It's alarming," Sherlock said sternly.

"Okay, yes I admit dad I have been hitting the pubs a bit hard. I think too much like you dad. Everyone seems so stupid around me. You taught me that my whole life how to figure out people. I do and I can't stand it. It drives me nuts. I went into your field not to compete your legacy. I went into it because I know I am well capable of doing it. I hate you being disappointed in me," Hamish sighed, as his he put one of his curls back out of his face.

"I'm not disappointed in you Hamish. I just fear for your safety," Sherlock admitted.

"Dad you survived through so much with the mind you have. I can do the same. I won't be ever able to play violin like you, but yes like you I can tell from 143 different tobaccos. I can tell who is cheating by how they wear their jeans. You gave that instinct to me. I just never knew how hard it was to deal with it," Hamish sighed.

"I know and I'm sorry I haven't been more helpful. John has unfortunately experience in the area of drink. John knows more than enough people who can help you. You both equally scare me by how much you are like me," Sherlock replied as he took another bread roll.

"Well I wouldn't say that Dad. You hate literature, yet I have read everything by Steinbeck. I know the solar system than you do," she teased.

"Alright, time to stop ganging up on your dad. I got some lovely pound cake to have tea with," John smiled as he walked back to the kitchen to cut some up for his family. After dessert, Sherlock armed with a flashlight showed Hamish around.

"This is where I am planning to put my bees," he pointed at a nice spot away from the house and closer to the woods.

"Dad I wonder what no crime is going to do to you. Catching bees isn't quite the same isn't it?"

"Oh son, you don't know the bee colony! I have been reading up on it since you were a wee lad. It's a great shame you have the allergy your dad has too."

"Well at least someone doesn't," Hamish laughed.

"Listen, text or email son. Don't be a stranger. Don't feel like you need to prove anything to me," Sherlock went over and hugged him. It had been a long time since Hamish had one from him. He held onto him for sometime before he let him go.

"Take care of Violet for me, will you?" he said to Hamish, walking back to the house.

"You know I will. Guys swarm around her like a bee. Yet she sees through every single one of them. She's going to be a hard sell," he laughed. Sherlock looked on as Hamish and Violet got into his car. They vanished off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

The day came that Princess Sofia would come to visit and Sherlock awoke early just in case. He didn't look a day over 35 in his purple shirt and black pants, even with the streaks in his hair. It was making John somewhat horny again, even after last night.

"John, you are really going to have to take a cold shower," grinned Sherlock. "I would accept a round two, but we have a special visitor coming and it's not this," he put his hand under the bed sheet to stroke John's hard erection. Time had not aged their ability to satisfy one another.

"Stop touching me Sherlock. You are only making it worse you idiot," said a half horny sleepy John.

"Sorry I couldn't resist," Sherlock grinned as he went downstairs into the living room to his couch. Some time passed and he almost drifted back to sleep, when he could hear a car coming near the house. He knew for certain this had to be her.

He spotted it from the window. A black, tinted window McLaren, P1 parked itself near the house. A driver helped Sofia out. Sherlock's breath was taken. She still looked like the young girl he had helped so many years ago. She was older now, but she was still fond of the dress style she wore when she first encountered him. Her long lilac gown blew in the wind under her purple cloak. Her red and purple amulet glowed around her neck. As she approached the door, she lowered her hood, revealing her bright blue eyes, fair skin and the crystal tiara she kept on her head. She pushed her curly light brown hair back as she lightly knocked on the door. Within a moment, Sherlock was standing at the front.

"Even though the circumstances are grim, it is still an honor to see you Princess Sofia once more," bowed Sherlock as he beckoned her in.

"And I am sorry to have to be impeaching on your retirement! I had no idea you had retired from your work. But I need your help most greatly," she sighed as she made herself comfortable on the couch. John as dressed as he walked downstairs.

"Would you like a cup of tea? Looks like you could use one. I'll get some biscuits too," John said as he headed into the kitchen.

"Thank you ever so kindly," Sofia replied. "My stress has messed with my appetite since all of this has begun. Sherlock you may understand why I am here already, don't you?" she stared into his eyes.

"I have a feeling it's about your amulet. Is someone after you?"

"Let me explain everything that has happened," she took a deep breath. "My amulet is called the amulet of Avalor. It was given to me by my stepfather King Roland II. He gave his to me when I joined his family, as a gift when my mother remarried. He told me my amulet had powers. That with each deed performed, for better or worse, a power is granted, a blessing or curse. When I was a child, I helped a baby bird reunite with its mother. The amulet has since given me the power to speak to animals,"

"Yes, which I know Sebastian wanted to have access too, but go on," Sherlock injected as he listened to her.

"I promised my stepfather that I would never take off my amulet. As I have gotten older, Cedric the Sorcerer who has been I and my Stepfather's enemy became more nagging. He has tried many times over the years to take my amulet from me in any way possible. He knew my stepfather was dying from an incurable brain disorder. Cedric grew even more evil and sinister than I ever knew him before. He taunted me about his death and wanting the amulet. Night after night he would ask me for it, even trying devious magic tricks to get to it. The amulet would physically flee to me and he could never reach it. He finally revealed his true feelings when he threatened to kill my father and my stepsister Princess Amber if I didn't hand over my amulet. I told him in hell I would give it to him from my burning neck. Nothing was more important to me than this. From that last refusal, he called upon most sinister spells that I am not even aware of. The castle started to become a blaze and I was forced to flee for my life. My amulet protected me as I ran out of the gates and made it across the wooden bridge before it collapsed. I lost my entire family because of this," she paused as she choked back the tears she had been holding off to cry.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss Sophia," was all Sherlock could really say as he passed her a tissue box. He was thinking to himself as Sophia helped herself to the tea and biscuits John had made and then continued her story.

"I have been in hiding in every kingdom possible. I admit it to you Sherlock I am very tired of it. It is with my great displeasure that I feel I have no choice, but to give you my amulet and for me to finally face Cedric once more—"

"That would be highly risky and you might come out of it alive Sofia," Sherlock injected. "You are still quite young and it would be foolish to try –"

"You don't understand Sherlock," she slightly raised her voice tears started to fill her eyes again. "I have to settle with him for destroying my family and my kingdom. He will never get my amulet whether I am dead or alive. He will never suspect anyone like you having this. He doesn't even know I'm alive despite all of his powers. I know I am breaking my Stepfather's heart, but this must be done," she calmly took off her amulet and held it close to her chest one last time.

"How do you want me to keep the amulet?" Sherlock asked as he held it.

"Don't tell anyone you have it outside of this house. Strange things may occur since you are now the owner. Be aware of your actions, for the amulet may help or hurt you. In a few days time, Princess Vivian will come for the amulet. I give you permission to give it to her. She was one of the few outside of my kingdom who was spared. After I defeat Cedric, no one with an evil heart will know of the amulet's power. She will come after I give her the all clear. She will be traveling from New Zealand. She will meet you Gatwick Airport, North Terminal. You will go with her to the car park, where she will take the amulet from you. She will then go in another car to drive back to the airport, where she will fly back with the amulet. Is this understood?"

"Yes. It is," Sherlock replied after sometime as the amulet ever continued to glow in his hands.

"It is the last thing of Enchancia that is left. Please take much good care of it," she curtseyed to Sherlock and John. "Our legacy depends on it gentlemen. Before I depart once more, are there any further questions?"

"Will you let us know you are still alive?" John asked her.

"Princess Vivian will know of my fate and she will let you know personally in time. I am going to go back to Enchancia and face who knows. Thank you both for helping me as much as you have. My mother and stepfather were always gracious about your help to me. I hope the amulet find you well," she put back the hood on her long purple cloak over her.

"Good luck and goodbye, Princess Sofia," said Sherlock as he opened the door for her.

"Adieu," she curtseyed once more to him and got into the back of the car that drove out of sight. Sherlock spent some time looking out the window before he said more.

"So… Sherlock we have an amulet that talks to animals. What the heck are we going to do with a magic necklace?"

"Leave it to me John. I think I may find some use of this," he smiled. He first thought about his upcoming beekeeping. Then he thought about all the forest surrounding his house.

"At this rate John," Sherlock said as he picked up his violin, "this will be a six patch problem indeed," and started to play Sergej Rachmaninov´s Vocalise as his mind wandered in thought and the purple and red amulet glowed on the living room desk. Sherlock was still thinking about the issue by the time John retired to bed. There was nothing more he could do than experiment with what the amulet was capable of.


	8. Chapter 8

He decided early next morning he would go for a long walk, taking a couple of biscuits for the road. He wore the amulet under his shirt for safe keeping and grabbed his cell phone. He felt funny wearing a women's necklace. He thought what John would think as he got his black jacket out. He walked around for some time as the sun came up. He wasn't too far away from his house when he thought he heard sounds of people telling him good morning. He looked up and only saw birds. This wasn't a dream. Birds with the amulet actually bided him a good morning. He walked wide eyed more into the forest.

On the trees he was walking near, it looked like a little house on top. It would be way too small for a child's tree house since it was so high up. It would be too nice for an owl to live in, or so Sherlock thought. It actually had a roof and little smoke coming out of what looked like a fireplace. In a moment, it all made sense. An owl, very distinguished in nature with light tan plumage on his underside and brown plumage on his head, tail, and back. He has a short tuft of white feathers just under his beak, somewhat resembling a beard. He flapped his wings and circled around Sherlock.

"Good morning to you sir, isn't this a fine day?" the Owl asked.

"Yes… isn't it?" Sherlock tried to smile.

"Ah, you have an amulet too! Just like dear Christopher Robin does? Have you seen him by any chance?"

"Christopher Robin? Isn't he off at university? He had an amulet also?" Sherlock questioned him.

"Yes, we were his only friends growing up. I guess everyone has to grow up once in a while don't they? Well I wouldn't tell that to the others."

"There are others he was friends with?"

"Oh course, dear chap! I could introduce you to them. They would be delighted to hear you can speak to them. They are so dearly missing Christopher. They don't understand the concepts of people getting older around here," Owl replied, fluttering around and picking up a worm from the tree with the most holes in it.

"Come along this way fine fellow! What may be your name?" Owl asked as he flew in the direction for Sherlock to walk in.

"Sherlock Holmes sir, and do you have a name?"

"Just simply Owl kind sir and let's see who we are near – ah we are nearest to Eeyore. A bit on the gloomy end here, but I am sure you two will get along," he flew to what appeared to be a rather swamp of sorts. There within the distance laid the Eeyore, almost looking like a slender gray donkey. He saw his droopy eyes from where he was standing. He could also see Eeyore's tail rocking back and forth in the wind.

"Eeyore, it is me Owl! We have a new friend here at the Hundred Acre Woods! His name is Sherlock! He can talk to animals too Eeyore, isn't that just marvelous?" he exclaimed.

"Well how do you do?" Eeyore walked toward Sherlock. "Isn't it depressing here or what? Still don't have a house and I am how old? I don't remember. I have been living too long," he spoke in a slow drawl.

"I'm sorry to hear that?" was all Sherlock could say. What a depressing donkey. If this was a clear indicator of friends Sherlock thought, Christopher had in his mind, no wonder he moved.

"It's okay. Such is life. You look a lot older than Christopher Robin. I still bet you aren't as old as me though."

"Of course I do," Sherlock chuckled. "I haven't been to school in many years."

"Well I best start trying to build a house again. Probably it will get destroyed again, knowing me," Eeyore sighed as he turned his back on the two to work on his house.

"Let's go on to Piglet's house. It will be less gloomy there I can promise you," Owl said as he flew west and Sherlock followed him on foot. It gave Sherlock time to eat some biscuits as Owl carried on about some distant relative who lived in a university tower.

"Ah and here is Piglet's house. Let's see if he is home." Owl swooped down and knocked on Piglet's little door with a wing. Piglet opened the door and looked meekly up at Owl and the new arrival.

"Good morning Owl. Did you bring along a friend?"

"Indeed I did Piglet!" Owl exclaimed. "He is living where Christopher Robin lives. He also has an amulet too so he can talk to us," Owl explained to Piglet.

"You are mighty tall to shake your hand. Did you come far to be here?" Piglet asked.

"I came from London," he replied.

"I think Owl may have mentioned Christopher Robin going there. Christopher says it is not as lovely as here. I rather like here where it's quiet and safe. My house is here too and I have no need to go anywhere as long as my friends are here," he smiled.

"You have never left the forest then, haven't you?" Sherlock asked.

"None of us have and chances are none of us will. We are not loners here," Owl quickly responded. "Well onwards we go Piglet. I hope to see you very soon," Owl took flight.

"Goodbye Sherlock! It was nice to meet you!" the little pig waved at him. Sherlock's logic and reason did not apply within these woods. It was like a mixture of cocaine and being in a child dream land here. They stopped not too quickly from Pooh's house, as it said in front.

"Now my dear friend, this is the house of Winnie the Pooh bear. Christopher took much liking to him when he lived here. One of his closest friends of all, but I would not say the brightest," Owl whispered as he too also used his wing to knock on Pooh's door.

"Well hello Owl," a small yellow bear with a giant belly. "Have you bought me any honey by chance?"

"No Pooh bear, but I did bring a new friend Sherlock Holmes. He has an amulet like Christopher Robin. He can talk to us and no Pooh, he did not bring honey either," Owl added.

"Oh bother. Christopher use to bring me honey all the time. Where on earth could be possibly be?"

"Oh Pooh, don't you remember he has school!" Owl slightly lied. "Aren't you going to say hello to our new friend?" he insisted.

"Why hello Sher- er –er- lock, if you find any honey let me know. Otherwise, I may need to steal honey my old fashion way," Pooh rubbed his belly.

"What is the old fashioned way?" Sherlock played along.

"Oh I trick the bees. Or usually they trick me. I get honey in the end, but it is just easier when a friend can do it for you," Pooh giggled.

"I'll… keep that in mind," Sherlock slowly replied to the lumpy bear. With that, they were off once again, walking northeast to where Owl said Kanga and little Roo's house was. "I think you will like Kanga very much. One of the more sensible people in our wood," Owl commented as he landed on the grass. Roo was playing with a large ball and Kanga was sitting in the shade, knitting.

"Hello Kanga! Hello Roo! We have a new guest here in the Hundred Acre Wood. This is Sherlock. He has an amulet so he can talk to us like Christopher Robin use to," Owl introduced.

"Well how do you do Sherlock?" Kanga bounced over to Sherlock. "Little Roo, come on over to meet Sherlock, our new friend in the forest."

"Does he live in a tree?" Roo asked.

"No Roo. He lives in the farm house across from the forest. He's thinks everyone lives in a tree," Kanga motherly giggled.

"How long have you been here in these woods Kanga?" Sherlock asked.

"You know it's funny… no one has ever bothered to ask how I got here. You may have been the very first human who's asked me! Not even Christopher Robin cared to know. My mother came from the London Zoo and we were kidnapped and let out in the woods alone! My mother had to fend for herself and then me when I was born. There were different animals that lived here when my mother lived, who were very kind to her. Owl has a record of some of the former inhabitants of our woods. My mother always made sure I or my children would never be in a cage again. Luckily, no one bothered to search her too closely. The woods are thick and the zoo keepers just gave up on her," Kanga recalled as she also concentrated on her knitted hat.

"Well that is quite a story Kanga. I do appreciate you confiding in me," Sherlock thanked her.

"Christopher is a smart boy too. I know where he has gone. I know his parents wanted to sell this place because Owl flew over one day when they were all arguing outside. I was worried for Christopher's sake. He spent so much of his life in these woods. As he got older, it became less and less. Everyone go through that stage, wanting to be like everyone else at some point. He didn't want to be seen talking to animals he loved to do when he was young. I heard a most terrible rumor before your arrival Owl," she sighed.

"What that may that be Kanga?" Owl asked concerned.

"He did a most terrible thing to his amulet. He pawned it for money," Kanga lowered her head.

"My. My. What a terrible thing to do. After all we meant to him," Owl shook his head. "I did not know this information before. I beg you never to tell the others. We will keep Christopher Robin in our hearts as we remember. We will remember him as a young, foolish, immature, and a lovely boy."

"At least Sherlock is here now. At least we have someone to talk to," Kanga reassured Owl.

"It will not be long though I'm sorry to say. I only have the amulet for a week. Then it will be given to another princess," Sherlock sighed.

"What dreadful news this is," Kanga wiped away a tear.

"Why are you crying Mommy?" Roo asked naively.

"It is nothing darling. Go back and play with your ball," she commanded him. She turned her attention back on Sherlock.

"All of us will have each other, but there will be no one to speak to or for us. It will be a sad day when the amulet departs from these woods," Kanga sobbed a little.

"Oh dear old Kanga don't cry. These woods will be well protected with this bloke around. We just won't be speaking to him. She can get rather emotional about these things," said Owl.

"I'm sorry. I miss Christopher Robin and his love for these woods. It's that motherly thing in me I guess," she sighed.

"We should be on our way Kanga. It was lovely to see you again. You are more than welcome to come visit," Owl hugged her and off he flew in the sky again. Sherlock thought to himself how Christopher Robin could be so daft to give away his amulet for a few hundred pounds? To give up all of this? He wondered to himself silently as they travelled northwest.

"This is the final house we will get to be seeing today, don't worry lad. This is Rabbit's house. Here also his garden, he is very fond of it. Ah, I see he is collecting carrots. We caught him at a good time," Owl shouted as he landed on Rabbit's garden fence.

"Why hello Rabbit, fine vegetables you are growing!" Owl commented as Rabbit picked up the last of carrots."

"Why thank you Owl and oh we have a guest in my garden!" Rabbit smiled.

"Yes, this is Sherlock, he lives where Christopher Robin is. He has an amulet too and can talk to us," Owl introduced him once more.

"You know, talking always helps my plants grow and I believe it. Gives them company and they don't boss you around. Or stamp on your things like Tigger!" he rolled his eyes.

"Now, now Rabbit don't be saying bad things about Tigger. You know he does mean well," Owl patted his back.

"Who's Tigger?" Sherlock asked.

"Ah, Tigger is the only of his kind. He looks like a tiger, but certainly does not act like one. He likes to bounce and unfortunately he likes jumping all over poor Rabbit's garden," Owl sighed. "You may not meet him today, but I am sure you will. He's bound to cause trouble at a moment's notice."

"Indeed he does. Remember the tale he told Pooh about that kept him awake all night?" Rabbit whined.

"Oh yes indeed, those creatures that steal all of your honey. He gave poor Pooh bear such a fright, but alas we must be on our way. It is almost noon and time for lunch. Goodbye for now Rabbit!" Owl took off into the air.

"So long Owl! Nice to meet you Sherlock! Come again!" Rabbit said as he took up his wheel barrow.

"Follow me," commanded Owl to Sherlock. "My house is closest to where you are, so you don't get lost. I am too use to doing that," he chuckled as he flew. Sherlock walked silently under him, trying to have any grasp on what he experienced today. It didn't seem belong before they were back at Owl's house.

"Well my boy, off to lunch. The worms await me. Be sure to come back tomorrow," he perched on the branch near his house.

"Goodbye for now Owl! Thank you for introducing me to your friends," Sherlock smiled as he walked back to the house. He looked at the watch. It was almost noon! It didn't seem like such a long time. He walked back to the house and John was watching the telly.

"You were out a while," John said as he sipped his tea.

"I was talking to animals, believe it or not," Sherlock added.

"Did they have anything of interest to say?"

"I think they did. I will bring you along on my morning journeys tomorrow. Till then," Sherlock took out his violin. "I will play a song in honor of them." He started playing Camille Saint-Saens's La Cygne. Not long after playing and eating much of John's homemade spanakopita, Sherlock laid on the couch and fell into a very deep sleep. John made sure not to bother him, put a blanket around him and kissed his forehead. As much as he wanted to say he was a bloody prat for believing he actually did talk to animals, John had to admit to himself there was actual truth in this now because of Sofia's amulet. Eventually Sherlock did move himself off the sofa, into the comfort of the bedroom with John. He wrapped his arms around John's chest and lay close to hear his heartbeat. The amulet glowed not too far away, giving a hazy glow in the dark bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

The Afghanistan war and almost losing Sherlock, never fully left John's unconscious. Some nights, he would be startled awake, covered in sweat. Touching Sherlock silently to make sure he was okay and alive. Another dream had startled him into waking up early. Sherlock was still in bed the next morning as John went out to grocery shopping at Morrison's to clear his mind. Mycroft had left a silver Aston Martin at their disposal in the garage. John still hated the stupid machines, as much as he did as when he lived in London. He felt they had only gotten worse with time, as most stores replaced people for them. After a complex checkout system that left John to curse it out quietly, he left with his cart of groceries. As he headed straight into the parking lot with things, he heard a woman's voice yelling to him.

"Sofia is a prisoner," she said as she walked in the opposite direction. By the time he turned his head back and wanted to ask more questions, she had disappeared. This was not good news. Once John loaded the groceries into the car, he drove off heading back for the house in silence. Sherlock was already awake by the time he had returned, as the sun's light broke out more into the clouds. Sherlock helped him put everything away as John made the both of them some tea. John relayed the story about the women in the grocery store and in turn Sherlock let John know about Christopher and his amulet.

"How long ago did he pawn it do they know?" John asked.

"We can get in touch with the Robins later today. He probably shares a back account with his parents since he is at uni. Probably worried he will spend it all on pubs, cheap dates, and Cromwell sandwiches," Sherlock giggled, thinking about his own days as Christopher's age.

"Smart parents I say," John added as he got their teas to the kitchen table. As John started in on the store bought biscuits, Sherlock asked if he would go with him to the hundred acre woods. Sherlock went into the bedroom to get his amulet. John said yes hesitantly and shortly after breakfast, found his coat and walking shoes and out the door they went.

Sherlock's memory of where things were always stunned John. He must have picked that up when he had to go into hiding John silently thought as they walked through the forest hand in hand. They encountered all the animals Sherlock had met the previous day. John gave him the most hysterical looks. Sherlock took time to explain to Kanga and Owl his ideas to get Christopher's amulet back. They were both all for it and to let him know if they could be of any assistance, despite the fact they could never leave the forest themselves.

Sherlock and John were at Rabbit's house as Rabbit was digging out his cabbages. Rabbit was knee deep into his love of gardens lecture, when John heard a bouncy noise, like a mattress spring. Sherlock grinned at him. This had to be the Tigger Rabbit dreaded to mention. John's eyes grew wider once more when the slender tiger bounced down the forest.

""Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo-oo!" yelled Tigger as he bounced into Rabbit.

"Tigger! You knocked me over!" Rabbit complained as he dusted himself off.

""Consider yourself pounced then!" Tigger laughed and bounced around him.

"Hello Tigger," said Owl lacking much enthusiasm.

"Hello Owl and who maybe these fellow tall creatures be?" Tigger inspected them with his beady eyes. "They sure don't like Tiggers. It's good to know I am still the only one!"

"They are humans like Christopher Robin," Owl explained. "The tall one is Sherlock and the short one is John. Sherlock has an amulet which follows for him and his friend to speak to us like Christopher."

"Ah, well isn't that swell. T.T.F.N.! Ta-ta- for now!" Tigger bounced off singing about how he was the only one of his kind.

"Well, that went rather well," Owl chuckled and Rabbit rolled his eyes. Sherlock and John made their way back to the house without much trouble. Just to be on the safe side John asked if he really did just talk to an owl, kangaroo, tiger, bear, a baby pig, and a rabbit. Sherlock assured him he did all of these things and that the work wasn't done yet. Sherlock quickly got on the phone to The Robins as to what pawn shop he had visited. His mother was able to look through the financial statements before giving him the answer: A & A Pawnbrokers in West Sussex, not London as Kanga and Owl thought it was.

"The game is on John!" Sherlock rubbed his hands together like the old times as they got into the Aston martin. They went on the A22 to get to the little pawn shop on the corner of Crawley, a sleepy West Sussex town. It took almost a half hour. Sherlock and John stepped into the small pawn shop and were greeted by a much older gentleman.

"Good day lads. Is there anything I can help you with?" the frail old man asked behind his wooden counter.

"Are you familiar sir with the name Christopher Robin and a necklace he bought to your store?" Sherlock questioned him.

"Oh yes, that nice college boy. He bought this strange necklace in for me, said he wanted at least a 1000 pounds for it. I examined in and it was quite nothing like I've seen before. I had a very hard time testing the gemstones on it and gave him a much lower offer for it based on that. He took it anyway and gave it to me. I think it's still in the back, let me have a look," said the old man has he looked in the back and found it.

"So may I ask you gentlemen why you ask about this particular necklace?" he raised his grey eyebrows.

"The boy who sold it you made a profound mistake selling it. He wasn't supposed to," Sherlock explained. "It's a family heirloom," he slightly twisted the truth to get the effect he wanted on the old man. Sherlock still had in him, even in his 70s.

"I can understand why they would be upset. It's a unique item. And it glows too! I will be more than happy to sell it back to you, since I assume you represent him or his family?"

"Yes, we currently have relations with the Robins family," Watson added as his perused around the small shop.

"Very well, since I could not decipher its worth. However, I do ask for 50 pounds as for an inconvenience fee. I ask this of everyone who gets second thoughts about such matters. I think it is rather reasonable to ask," the old man smiled a toothless grin.

"Very well, here is your 50 pounds," Sherlock put it near his cash register. The old man took it quickly into the cash register. He put the necklace in a white box and gave it back to him. Once the necklace was in Sherlock's possession, they were out the door.

"Fifty pound fee, who on earth does that?" John rolled his eyes as they went back into the car.

"Someone who really needs the money," Sherlock said simply as he got in the car on the passenger side. John drove them home as Sherlock inspected the necklace. It still had a strange glow to it as Sophia's had. Green and red gems encircled it. Every gem looked like it was still in place.

"We were very lucky to get this back. If we had been too late, it would have probably ended up in the trash," Sherlock said as he inspected it more as the miles rolled on. It seemed like before he knew it, they were back home. To both of their surprise, another car was also near the house too. One they did not recognize.

"Looks like he just stopped here judging from the way the car is shaped. The driver is young because the way the car is centered is lazy and clumsy. He might be who I think it is," Sherlock said out loud as they got near the back of the house. There stood as Sherlock suspected, Christopher Robin.


	10. Chapter 10

"And what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked him as Christopher turned himself around.

"I use to live here. I didn't know my parents rented out their house to two queens," he scoffed as he turned back around.

"Hey you don't know who you are talking to!" John bit back. "_That _is Sherlock Holmes you are referring to." Christopher got a good look at Sherlock's face and then stared back at John in awe and terror.

"I… I am so sorry! I had no idea my parents lent the house to you. If I known immediately, I… wouldn't have said that," Christopher bit his lip. "All I knew was that they didn't want the house anymore and they were going to sell it. I just wanted to pop around these parts for the last… is _that _my amulet you are holding?" Christopher looked at Sherlock's right hand, holding the necklace.

"Why it is Christopher. You see, we had a little visit to the pawn shop today, to let them know you made a mistake," Sherlock snarled.

"A mistake, I didn't make any mistake! Normal people don't talk to animals. People my age don't have a stupid necklace that blesses or curses whatever actions they make. I loved having it when I was a kid. It was given to me by a relative of my father's, who was a king. When I wore it, the forest talked to me. I had animal friends when I had absolutely no human friends. Over time that all changed for me," Christopher sighed. "I grew up. I wanted to be like everyone else. I thought it might be worth something."

"I learned something when I got here," Sherlock held Christopher's amulet out. "They miss you terribly. They all asked for you and when you are coming back. They don't care you got older. Especially the bear you know," Sherlock smiled and Christopher took the amulet from him.

"You're right," he nodded. "Thank you for fixing a grave mistake on my part," he said as Christopher ran into the forest. Sherlock and John thought it would be best to leave him alone with them. They heard much cheering as both Sherlock and John fixed up an early dinner for themselves. It was nice to see Sherlock as he was when they lived on 221B Baker Street in John's eyes. At least when the case was solved, there wouldn't be a worry if Sherlock would get a drug fix anymore. He had John now and that was the only fix he ever needed anymore. After a delicious dinner, they more than made up for the lack of time spent alone with each other. Christopher left them a long letter in their mailbox, thanking them for what they did for him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh Christ, John do I really have to go to this festival with you? You know this is not my cup of tea of an event you know," Sherlock whined and sulked in his dressing gown, pacing in his usual upset manner.

"You can't be so antisocial, you prat! Some of my old Army friends live around here. You get to meet some of my pals finally after all these years!" John said as he was typing an email to Hamish.

"Were these the blokes that got drunk at our reception? They were rather… embarrassing," Sherlock said as he held his beloved skull on the fireplace mantle.

"No, not those guys Sherlock. That was the Irish division I worked with. This is the English one! Are you planning on bringing your skull also?" John teased.

"It is sure easier to talk to a skull than most people. Except you," Sherlock smiled as he walked over and kissed John on the lips. Anything that made John happy… well was okay to Sherlock. He dreaded the large crowds of gossiping people, being the object of attention, especially considering who he was despite his retirement. The worst part was it was being held at a church. Sherlock had a strong distaste for religion or being close to anything near the sort. Despite his sour puss attitude, Sherlock did his best to look nice for John. He hated dressing up. Black and white worked for everything, so that is what he ended up with. John unfortunately had the same idea of a white shirt, black pants and slacks.

"Well at least I know how to find you," John laughed it off. Sherlock however was not amused. Maybe it was best to laugh it off. The drive to Withyham Parish Church was at least a nice drive, being only six minutes away. It had been there since apparently the 12th century. It took a while to find a parking space, so their best bet was to park on the grass near the graveyard. John knew all of this would be hard for Sherlock to take, so he took his hand.

"One last thing," John asked. "Please do not do your art of deduction on this crowd. I don't think they would like to hear it."

Sherlock sighed.

"Very well then," he responded disdainfully. Walking into this would normally be his worst nightmare. A group of youngsters, at least in their twenties was playing music on a makeshift stage. Playing rousing cover songs and contemporary Christian songs that left Sherlock rolling his eyes. Sherlock promised himself if he was going to hear "Here I am To Worship" one more time, he was going to tell the lead singer he got a girl pregnant by the way he wore his jeans.

The people were no better. Much of them were the same age as Sherlock or much, much older. Everyone dressed in gaudy Sunday bests. Women with strange looking hats like looked like they could be their own outfit. Sherlock knew the bigger a woman's hat, the less sex she was having, so he kept that in mind also.

"John, how lovely of you to move into the country!" a woman started chatting up John. He quickly realized it was Sarah, who worked in NHS, only her skin was a bit tanner than he remembered. She was the last woman that he dated before getting with Sherlock. A rather awkward hug followed by her even more persisting wanting to talk to him.

"Yes, we only just officially moved here last week. How have you been Sarah, it's been quite a long time since we worked together," John conversed politely.

"Well funny you ask. I couldn't to your… wedding because my mother at the time passed away. It was a wakeup call that I needed to do some soul searching. So I worked in India for a few years and helped out different organizations there. It got me out of England and just cleared my head really. I only just got back actually, got a little homesick I guess. Never married, never had kids, but it's what it is," she shrugged her shoulders. "So how have you two love birds have been?" she laughed.

"Well we just retired from the consulting detective work-."

"Wow, retiring! I am sure many people miss you in London."

"I don't necessarily miss London, but I think Sherlock sometimes does," he grinned at him.

"I have a message for you someone told me to tell you," she spoke near his ear.

"What is it?"

"Sofia is being tortured. That was all that was said for me to tell you." John didn't say anything as to not give himself away about anything of what has happened.

"Well it was quite unexpected you two again. I'm going to go talk to some other friends. Stay well," she said as she walked off to talk with big hat ladies.

"She's still upset that you are still with me," Sherlock said deadpanned. "Her face and gestures revealed a lot in the conversation."

"Well I wasn't quite expecting to see her."

"That is the joy of social engagements. Meeting people you would hate to see again ever," Sherlock gave a fake smile. "We still haven't met your friends yet,"

"Yes we should go look for them," John agreed and took Sherlock with him as the youth group band played on their atrocious noise.

John would always know where veterans would hang out in parties like this. Always in a group and always in a place others couldn't get to. Who else could they brag about all their wartime injuries and shenanigans? John and Sherlock drew closer to them. Their collective laughter was almost deafening. They were perhaps having the most fun out of anyone here. Of course, it always helped when someone would bring bottles of liquor with them.

"Dr. Watson could that be you old sport?" yelled one of the older men. "Don't you remember me? I was Sgt. Hunter Dunn," the older man shook hands with John as the other men crowded around him.

"Why yes, Hunter what a joy to see you! Seems almost like yesterday we were in Afghanistan," John smiled slightly.

"How time has come and gone! You sure look well for your age," Hunter complimented him.

"Well I guess all the years of chasing down criminals took care of that one," John rubbed his belly.

"Chasing criminals? Wow John, I never expected you to do that after you were discharged. After my stint up, I lived in Ireland till recently. My children and grandchildren live in this general area, so it only made sense to be closer here."

"My husband and I have only just moved into the area too. It's a bit quieter than London."

"You're husband?" Hunter gasped for a second. "Well I would have never thought… his face looks familiar. Do you happen to be Sir Sherlock Holmes?" Hunter adjusted his glasses and the others whispered in awe.

"Indeed I am," Sherlock shook Hunter's hand, wishing he would just be the background for a change.

"They talked about you in Dublin. Always something about you online," Hunter said.

"You got the whole bloody headline when you were knighted!" another veteran piped in.

"I was too," John added.

"Gosh, I am terrible with keeping up with news of my comrades. We need to keep in better touch. Have a bash at the pub or something. Reminisce of the old days," Hunter patted John on the shoulder. After the phone number exchanges with a number of them and Sherlock slightly whining to leave, John bid them farewell.

"That local band is doing a pitiful version of amazing grace. I am sure even Jesus would hate it," Sherlock snarled.

"Remind me to not see you buried again with a Christian ceremony," John rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't my idea, it was bloody Irene Adler!"

"Whatever did happen to Irene?" John asked curiously as he looked for the car keys in his pocket.

"Moriaty's employees took care of her after helping me during my fake death. She claimed to beat me at my own game. Stupid little woman," Sherlock got in the passenger side.

"I do admit she looked nice naked," John giggled. "But I would say not as handsome as you though."

"Well John, that is indeed quite a compliment," Sherlock replied as they drove back to the farm.


	12. Chapter 12

John woke up hearing a bird tap on their window. It was loud enough to jar him. A woodpecker hung on to the side of their window. John dragged himself out of Sherlock's sleepy embrace and went to the front window and opened it. The red woodpecker stopped as soon as the window was opened. Within his beak was a little note, carefully folded. It laid the note gently on John's palm and quickly flew away.

"Sherlock… someone has sent us a note… from a bird," John rubbed his tired eyes.

"Then open it you idiot," replied a still in bed, grumpy Sherlock. John unfolded the note to find the rather confusing letter:

Eway areway oldinghay away artypay inway ouryay onorhay odaytay.

Omecay otay ethay orestfay enwhay onvenientcay.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell does this say! I can't read it to save my life," John complained and gave it to Sherlock to read, who had fallen back to sleep.

"Wake up sugar crumpet, we need to figure out what this letter says," John commanded once again, slightly shaking the sleeping Sherlock slightly. Sherlock rose slowly from the covers, glaring at John. He did _not ever _like being called sugar crumpet. He took the paper in his grumpy face and read it. And read it again. Read it a few more times. Then John saw the transformation take place. Sherlock started laughing quietly and before John knew it he was roaring in laughter, almost in tears. John never saw him so funny stricken before.

"What on earth does it say Sherlock?" John asked and Sherlock slowed down his breathing so he could communicate effectively.

"What they wrote is an invitation. It is a terrible mixture of Latin and misspellings of every word. They are holding a party for us and want us to come as soon as we were able."

"Why were you laughing so much?"

"I am going to treasure this document as the only time the animal kingdom who corresponded with me, misused the English language and Latin," Sherlock smiled one of his rare smiles at John. They took their time getting breakfast and getting ready. It sure wasn't like the old days at 221B where it was beat the clock or let's eat when there isn't a crime. It was dreadfully cloudy, but there at least wasn't rain yet. John reminded Sherlock to get Sofia's amulet. As they headed into the woods and walked near Owl's house, red ribbons were on every other tree, leading to somewhere.

"Well let's see where this leads," Sherlock smirked and followed the path. They were instantly greeted by all the friends of the woods. There was a long table with small chairs each of them sat in. A very large pot inscribed "Hunny" was at the end of the table. Once they saw the two, they all started to sing.

"We never will forget,  
Our hero of the amulet,  
Our quick-thinking, convincing Sherlock. (Tigger adding a "Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo!")

And John who indeed,  
Helped out Christopher Robin in need,  
A' truly they're the heroes of the day!

So we say...  
Hip, hip, hooray,  
For Sherlock and John.  
John and Sherlock, thanks a lot.  
For deeds of bravery,  
And generosity,

Hip, hip, hooray,  
Hip, hip, hooray,  
Hip, hip, hooray, for Sherlock!"

They cheered and clapped for them. Some of them blew party favors. Tigger and little Roo bounced up and down holding balloons.

"Well, we weren't expecting… all of this," Sherlock was able to say as he grabbed John's hand. They headed down to where two chairs were waiting for them.

"For everything you did for us. We got you some honey," Winnie the Pooh smiled.

"Well thank you Pooh bear! I am sure we will find a way to use up all of this honey," John chuckled. There Sherlock and John were able to explain what had happened with the amulet to them all and Christopher.

"Yes, he came to all of us and he was so sorry by what he did," Kanga added. "He won't be able to visit as often as he would like, but he will come back as many times possible," she said with a smile.

"Yes I do think Christopher learned a lot by this experience. Treasuring what you have!" Owl hooted.

"Yes it is only a shame we have three days left with you before we must give the amulet back," Sherlock sighed. He was careful not to reveal anything on the how or why of the matter.

"Oh dddddear," Piglet grew rather sad. "Tttttthat means we don't be able to ttaaaalk to you anymore."

"They may not be able to," Owl replied. "But we will still call them our friends, won't we everyone?" he asked the table.

"Yes we will!" they all shouted and sang their little song again. After much talking and celebrating, Sherlock and John bid farewell with the rather enormous sized Honey pot, spelled Hunny.

"Aren't you going to miss talking to animals Sherlock? It seemed you enjoyed it the most," John teased him.

"I admit it was rather interesting to get into the minds of animals. I would far prefer their company over many others, including Mycroft. I will miss them," Sherlock looked back and smiled as they walked on back to the house.


	13. Chapter 13

After a hearty lunch, Hamish gave Sherlock a call. Hamish spent over an hour with him on the phone apologizing for his manner. He had been much stressed, hadn't eaten in days, and wasn't thinking straight. Sherlock gave him fatherly advice only he would be able to understand. It was nice for John to hear Sherlock laughing so much. He was tempted to record it all and send it to Mycroft.

"Hamish is doing much better. Needed to clear out his mind palace," Sherlock reassured John. "He is so much like me."

"Only he would have the best father in the world," John took his hand.

"How we had Hamish and Violet and still found time to do all the normal things we did-"

"We loved them and gave them everything we could, despite what we had to deal with. They are finding their way love," as John embraced Sherlock. While they were in the mist of doing so, the door bell rang.

"Ugh God, stupid brother," Sherlock broke off the kiss and headed to the door. "Still hitting the door bell the wrong way." He headed towards the door and there stood Mycroft.

"Greetings in retirement boys, how is the quiet life treating you?" Mycroft tried to act caring miserably as usual.

"Not missing London much, nor you barging in whenever you felt you needed to," Sherlock fake smiled.

"Well Lestrade just retired too finally. You wouldn't be hearing about how it's not his division anymore."

"Who's running the circus now?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Actually, Sally is, the one you thought you were a freak"

"Lovely. We'll see how much crime they can decipher without us."

"It has been quite terrible I admit. Baby brother just can't be topped."

"How is our former flat?" John interrupted as he headed back to fix some tea just in case.

"Now run by rude and rowdy uni students unfortunately. They apparently have broken a window and so far have had a few noise complaints. And your neighbors thought your violin playing violated the peace," Mycroft snickered.

"Mozart makes people more intelligent, even at four in the morning. I can't say that same for whatever rubbish is popular now," Sherlock sighed.

"London is rather bit of a bore without you brother. You are more ever so welcome to come visit me in London if the need arises with you," he smiled.

"They won't let you retire you won't they? They already lost a Holmes. They don't want to lose another one," Sherlock deduced.

"I am choosing to stay in London and keep my job Sherlock, because no one is better than me at it. I know whatever lout comes next won't know even whose division they are joining. Crime happens in London at the rate of you putting your cup in your saucer. Just because Moriarty and his people thankfully are long gone, doesn't mean things like it won't happen again. I enjoy the game too deeply Sherlock."

"You can have it brother. Soon bees will be my next study of interest."

"You always did have a strange love for those buzzing things," Mycroft flinched.

"Insects commit all sorts of crime. We just don't care about it," Sherlock smiled.

"As you say so dear brother. I do have a message for you someone anonymously told me to say via through text. Phone number blocked."

"And what may be?"

"Sofia was tortured and still wouldn't break. Who on earth is this Sofia and why are they texting me?"

"It is something I can't discuss with you Mycroft," Sherlock raised his voice.

"You are very good at keeping secrets to everyone, except me. I would like to think you would confide in me about all this?"

"No chance in hell dear brother."

"So I assume almost at this moment, you will be playing me a concerto till I leave, am I right?"

"Maybe, but gives my regards to King William."

"Ah yes, he owes me a few favors thinking about it," Mycroft pondered. Sherlock got out his handy and well loved violin. He chose the old standard "Early One Morning" to play over and over.

"Well this is my cue to go then Sherlock. Be well to you both," he tipped his hat and sort of swiftly walked out the door. Sherlock played till he and his car were out of sight.

"Nice to see you change up your repertoire," John joked as he got Sherlock's tea.

"I only just choose the most annoying songs I can think of."


	14. Chapter 14

The two days after were spent much with Sherlock building everything he needed for the bees. He found a nice isolated place away where it wouldn't be near the house. The ever still star struck Bee Club president helped out as much as he could for Sherlock. Everything necessary for starting his beekeeping was bought within those days. John knew he was having a lot of fun with that, as he caught up with blog entries, emails, and correspondence with Violet via FaceTime. He hadn't seen Sherlock that excited since finding Christopher's amulet. He also groaned of the fact this would soon become his next big obsession. Sherlock was his usual self once more staying up ridiculous hours, reading all he could about beekeeping.

On the day they were to go to Gatwick, John had to keep nudging Sherlock to stay awake as they made the long trek to the airport. Sunday was usually a quieter travel day, so the traffic wasn't as bad as John feared. John eyed his watch.

"She said she would be at North Terminal. That's all she really said about her," he said as they waited for her. Suddenly a figure looked at them and walked toward their car. Out from the arrivals gate, appeared a woman. The wind breezed through her long black hair and olive skin carrying no luggage. She wore thick black sunglasses and black gloves to match. The black dress she had reached her ankles and black pumps. Sherlock got out and opened the door for her.

"Take us to the car park please," was all she said at first as John paid a small fee to enter it with his car. She took out a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. John killed the engine once they parked and she spoke again.

"Princess Sofia died two days ago at the hands of Cedric. Her funeral was yesterday. She is buried with her family and kingdom," she wiped her tears once more. Sherlock silently gave her back the glowing amulet. She seized it and put in her purse.

"She was grateful to you all of her life. She wore to protect the amulet and its power all of the days of her life. In this, she succeeded. I am forever grateful for both of you," she wept again, trying to compose herself.

"As her last wishes were to give this to you," she retrieved from her large purse, her family crown. The white and purple diamonds sparkled in the sun.

"I'm surprised she wasn't buried with it," John asked.

"She felt like she had deeply disappointed her family. She wanted the crown as a token of remembrance of her for all you have done," the Princess sighed as another car parked next to them. This would be the car that would take her back to the airport.

"Goodbye and God bless," she said and got out of their car into the other moving vehicle. They drove him in a sad, eerie silence. Sherlock held the tiara tightly in his hands when they came back home. As he was inspecting it, he noticed some of her hairs had stuck themselves to it, from the effect of her taking it on and off. He remembered a story how a piece of hair could resurrect a person. He kept those rather insane thoughts to himself as they got out and went into the house. John found one of Sofia's postcards and framed it. He put it on the mantle and her glowing crown in the middle. Sherlock went quickly to his violin without hesitation, and played the long and sorrowful Ravel piece "Pavane for a Dead Princess."

Sherlock would speak nothing more of Sofia or her amulet, but would admire her picture now and then when playing. He envisioned as he played, the sweet little girl he saved so long ago.


End file.
